


Responsible Party

by frogfarm



Series: Buffy Etcetera: (Shorts) By Request [13]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Ficathon, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-06
Updated: 2006-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Willow comes to a decision.Mid-late "Band Candy".





	Responsible Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leni_ba](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=leni_ba).



> For Old Friends With Indiscretions II.
> 
> Requested: "S3. post Clothes-Fluke but before Lover's Walk. No angst. I wouldn't mind an AR where Willow and Xander choose to break up with Oz and Cordelia; but if you keep it canon, I'll be happy, too."
> 
> I felt more comfortable keeping in canon, but that made it brush up against the angst. I promise, it was strictly safe sex.

Willow's coming to realize, or be of the opinion, that _responsible_ is as much about perception and image as the rest. Which is primarily about keeping your word, and that becomes a problem only (sometimes) when you give it to more than one person. Little lies for the greater good, like her parents thinking she's over at Buffy's for chem tutoring; painting their nails, or watching movies. Maybe a nice platonic coffee with her quiet, well-mannered boyfriend. Who offers to drive her home after the Slayer calls from a payphone, sounding frazzled to the roots

( _"--Giles, get your hands off -- Mother! We have to get these babies back to the hospital. This is no time for the tonsil hockey playoffs--"_ )

Her worry grows when Xander refuses a ride, and it's still on her mind through Oz hugs, fumbling for her keys. She waves as she lets herself in, watching him drive away once he's assured of her safety. Always looking out for her.

She heads to the kitchen for a quick snack, hoping Mom's still away at her conference. No need to worry about Dad, in Prague 'til next weekend. She's getting juice from the fridge, feeling stodgy and reliable, and jumps at the timid knock; hesitates before hearing Xander's voice.

She cracks the door, newly suspicious.

"Do you need an invitation?"

"Oh -- right." He offers a shamefaced grin, extends a hand over the threshhold. Takes one step, and another, humanity proven.

She asks what's wrong before the door's even shut. No surprise he didn't want to go home

( _"--I figured, how could they be any worse --"_ )

( _"And then you came to your senses?"_ )

( _"Decided I'd rather not find out."_ )

She succumbs to tradition, offers to heat something up, but he says he's not hungry. Keeps his distance, and Willow thinks she understands; guilt for desire that refuses to die despite untold cold showers, comes off him in waves when he realizes her folks aren't here. She doesn't hide the grump when she says he can sleep on the _couch_ if he doesn't feel safe in her room.

He smiles, like he's forgotten all about anything flukey.

"As long as you can control yourself."

Willow harrumphs, thinking of their almost-graduated status in a town full of band-candied grownups. Until she thinks of Sunnydale's unintended pregnancy statistics, going off the charts over the next few months, which quashes _those_ thoughts in their tracks. No wonder Buffy freaked. Possible fresh sibling rivalry, at her age --

"I'm not leaving you down here alone." She grabs up cushions from the couch. "Come on. Still got enough for a fort."

She finds spare blankets and pillows in the hall closet and they lay it all out on the floor by her bed, very platonic. Gets him all set up like a good hostess, goes to brush her teeth and she's almost done when she remembers her pajamas are back in her room and unless she wants to give him a free show, it's probably best if she just changes into her bathrobe, hanging right here on the hook. Birthday gift from Grandma, plain grey thick and plush, no stripes or dots; made for loungey Sunday mornings with coffee and the New York Times. Very grownup. But even the thought of it, alone, noone around

( _to watch_ )

she still feels like a stripper, lazy flush the more she tries not to think of his eyes on her. Wiggles out of her jumper, reaches back to unhook her meager-seeming brassiere; stops with her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her underwear, seeing a future of being in the same room with Xander, naked under nothing but her nice grown-up bathrobe. Exciting and scary, and Willow isn't _quite_ that brave.

Thankfully it's plushy enough to hide the little points of her nipples, though that also means it's rubbing them in new and interesting ways. Xander's under the blanket when she returns; jeans in a crumpled heap beside the makeshift bed, still wearing a T-shirt, looking nervous and gorgeous with his smile

( _"There you are. I was about to send out a search party."_ )

Torn between crawling into her bed and his lap, she settles for killing the overhead light. Except her table lamp is casting shadows on his face, very _noir_ , and it feels like she's already made her decision.

"You look --" He swallows. "Nice."

"Yeah?" She can't help the thrill at this reaction, that seems less akin to Land's End, more Victoria's Secret. His eyes widen, as she kneels next to him.

"Just remember. Logically? There's no way for me to prove it's _not_ a spell."

"Will --" He trembles under her hand; gentle, until it curls tight in his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Being illogical."

"We're supposed to be grownups here --"

"Isn't this what grownups do?" She smiles, trying not to just reel him in. "Have torrid affairs?"

He gives a weak chuckle. "Get people out of their systems?"

"I don't _want_ you out of my system." She leans closer, lips against the fluttering pulse of his neck. "I want us to always be friends. And I want this."

"I --" His hand finds her shoulder, and she waits for him to drag her down, push her away.

"I told myself on the way over -- I wasn't gonna do anything stupid."

"May not be the smartest thing." He isn't fighting as her hand trails down his stomach; pushes back blankets, toys at the waistband of his boxers. "Doesn't mean we have to be _stupid_ about it."

She doesn't mention the condoms, tucked away in her dresser next to the Barry CD. Safer that way, and it doesn't matter with his hands in her robe, awkward and then not so much, feeling _that_ part of him stiffen too, in her suddenly nimble grasp. Stretches out beside his lanky, muscular body, loses herself in slow kisses, gentle touching that gradually becomes groping; messy, embarrassing and beautiful.

This time? It's enough.


End file.
